Thoughts from Tokyo

So, things are a-changing. And rather rapidly. We've been watching this Corona virus for weeks now. Our mission has been sending us updates since January (our mission works in many Asian countries, so makes sense). We've seen colleagues in other countries have schools shut down, have borders closed, and other measures. Now it's happening in our backyard.

Meanwhile, Spring is on its way in!

Japan's Prime Minister made a surprise announcement yesterday, recommending that schools shut down until the end of the school year in a couple of weeks.

Of course, that's a red flag to society: if the top political leader thinks schools should be shut, then things seem very serious. So lots of other things are shutting or being cancelled too. And people are stocking up in the shops. 

I usually shop on Fridays, and today sought out the toilet-paper aisle to test my theory: that toilet paper is the litmus test in Japan for "panic buying". People in Australia might stock up on bread and milk but in Japan it's toilet paper! We saw the same in 2011. I learnt from that time, though, and keep a stock of the stuff in our house. I also learnt from previous flu epidemics here to keep a stock of masks in our house. I've also got other staple supplies—we live in the land of earthquakes, it makes sense to be prepared!

Comparison with March 2011

Which brings me to what my brain was doing at 5am this morning: comparing this event with the aftermath of the triple disaster in March 2011.

This event brings that experience to mind, not just because of the shopping and school shutting—yes, our school is shutting. We're looking down the barrel of three weeks of distance education. I know the teachers will try hard . . . but I'm not so sure about the students. I'm prepared to be surprised. Thankfully they've had today to lay out their expectations for the students. I've just received an email suggesting students start work at 8.30, not sleep in. That's helpful!

But 2011 comes to mind for deeper reasons. I think it's the fear. The disaster, if you don't recall, went like this: earthquake which caused several giant tsunamis that inundated a nuclear power plant north of Tokyo. There was a lot of fear at that time. Lots of people struggled with overwhelming anxiety and stress. Lots of foreigners evacuated Japan. It got to be that every time I looked at social media or checked email, another of our friends or colleagues had left (and the kicker was—without saying goodbye).

So instantly we see how this virus situation is very different, but also similar. There has been warning—today they've had time at school to prepare—and evacuation isn't a great option at this point. We aren't getting constant aftershocks that disturb our sleep and rock our emotions. We aren't wondering if there's going to be another one soon. We aren't labouring under the realisation that many thousands have already lost their lives suddenly.

However, the fear is there and the misinformation (or merely exaggeration) is being freely shared. 

This is what I created yesterday to go with the basic update
on OMF Japan's social media

Another similar factor is that it can be stressful to talk to other people. Everyone, I've discovered, has a different threshold in this sort of situation. Some immediately go into "panic" mode, others are more laid back; some research every morsel they can find, some like to speculate about what the politicians aren't telling us. In some ways it's easier just to stay at home and stay off social media.

But I'm a social media manager, so the latter is hard! Yesterday I had to do what I've been avoiding, and face this straight on, researching facts and putting together an update post for our mission. It didn't come out as scary as I thought it would (although the conspiracy theorists will be quick to tell me that we aren't being told everything).

How I'm doing

I've found it hard to concentrate today, that's another common feature with 2011. With such turmoil, it is hard to focus, and focus is what I need to do to keep up with the deadlines that keep marching across my desk. That's going to be challenging in the coming weeks too with the rest of my family at home, in "my" office.

I also must say that I'm relieved that, at this point, the two big events next week that I've been looking forward to are still going ahead: a two-day women's retreat and a writer's retreat next weekend. The latter I've put quite a bit of work into organising and it made me feel very uncomfortable earlier this week to consider that that might not be possible.

It was also reassuring to go out this morning and do a simple thing like get a hair cut. That simple act, seeing real people doing ordinary things, was very grounding and encouraging. 

But ultimately I need to ground myself in the eternal reality. That our times are in God's hands. That he is not surprised by anything that's going on here. And that ultimately, whatever changes come our way, he never changes.

5 

5 Yes, my soul, find rest in God;

    my hope comes from him.

6 Truly he is my rock and my salvation;

    he is my fortress, I will not be shaken.

7 My salvation and my honor depend on God[c];

    he is my mighty rock, my refuge.

8 Trust in him at all times, you people;

    pour out your hearts to him,

    for God is our refuge. (Psalm 62 NIV)

Hidden reasons

The older I get, the more I realise how much what you see is different to what is really going on. And I'm quite convicted, because so often I judge others by what I see, without knowing the bigger story.

This is tricky to write about because I have a big elephant in the room that I want to write about as an example of this, but I really shouldn't write about it because it will invade that person's privacy. So let's go with some common fictional situations:

• a toddler who loses it in the grocery store
• a young adult who is sullen and rude
• a friend who can't seem to meet the goals she's set herself
• the quiet man in the corner of the room
• the colleague whose capacity to get stuff done is way less than yours
• the lady who appears antisocial

Oh, myriad examples. You know what I'm talking about. Behaviour that seems odd, or even unreasonable, that you don't understand and that is easy to judge.

What I sometimes (often?) forget is to stop and think is:

What's going on behind the scenes that I can't see?

There are many legitimate reasons for the above behaviours. From tiredness, poor organisation skills, or personal preferences; to the much more serious: mental health problems, traumatic life experiences, or serious physical illness.

The kicker is that most of the time we don't know why. Unless we know their backstory we don't know why that person is behaving like they are.

I've been on the receiving end of overt judgement from others, especially in relation to my children and our parenting decisions. That's hard. It's actually harsh. Sometimes it's possible to explain why such and such a thing is happening, but even then, it is usually very difficult for someone else to imagine walking in my shoes.

And I really shouldn't judge others for their poor judgement of me. I might not be guilty of saying my judgement out loud, but to my shame much judgement goes on in my head.

So back to my elephant. There are things about the way our family operates that I can't share with many people, and even the people I do share some things with have trouble fully understanding. You can speculate if you wish, or you can just accept that we are very deliberate about what we do. We make choices looking at the full hand of cards that only we can see. And sometimes those choices seem odd.

People look at missionaries and (sometimes) think "aren't they brave?" But they don't see the non-public times. The sheer exhaustion after an international move, or even the daily fatigue from operating in another language and culture. The self-doubt as we question our decisions. The fear as we wonder what the future holds.

Parenting as a cross-cultural worker is very challenging. We have no extended family to help us—though I know that many in our home countries are in that situation also. We're negotiating our way through situations that our parents never had to (and I'm not talking about screen-time here). We're trying to guess what the best decision is, when even small changes can impact our work, or even our ability to remain in the country we serve in. And we have few peers who are like us. 

It's a vulnerable situation, parenting in this way. Lots more people are watching us, more than would be if we'd never left the place we grew up in.

Please don't think that I'm in a bad way right now. I'm writing from a fairly strong position at present (though there are people I do avoid because of their capacity for quick judgment and slow listening). I'm writing from the experience that comes of having lived cross-culturally for over 19 years now. But don't fall into the trap of thinking that all is hunky-dory because I share photos of my family's public successes. And I'll try not to assume the same of you.

Fighting frustration

I'm trying to sort through what's going on in my head. Most days this week I've felt lethargic and unmotivated. I'm not sure if that's been my body fighting a bug off, or if it's emotional. Possibly both. But I've been trying to write this blog post for days, and I'm not getting much clarity. If anything, I'm more frustrated today than when I began.

Earlier this week we had student-led conferences. I presume other schools have things like this, but I'd never heard of it before I came here. It is a time at the start of second semester, where they get the students to look at how first semester went and make goals for second semester. The goals can be anything from academic to more general self-care (like exercise and sleep). Then the parents are called in to hear what the students have to say (with no teacher intervention). I find it's even more frustrating than being asked to set my own goals. At least then I have some control over whether I work to meet those or not. Alas, looking at your teenager make goals is a very different affair. First it raises your hopes, then, if they don't make an effort towards that goal, your hopes are dashed. And you're left, not just wondering What's the point? but What role should I play here? How much should I get involved?

So, I'm frustrated. And not just in parenting, also with myself.

Some days I feel like I'm plodding along. Just putting one foot in front of the other, hoping I'll get something done, but also beating back the frustration at not being able to work faster or with more enthusiasm.

And then my ADHD tendencies pop up. There's so much that I want to do, yet there's seemingly not enough time, nor enough energy.

Looking up: that's what I need to do. But not at a light!

But that fire that wants to do too many things still burns quietly. This week:

I want to race through my work.
I want to read the riveting book I've just gotten into.
I want to play Scrabble (and watch crime shows, and generally hang-out) with my husband.
I want to sleep!
I want to have a deep, texting conversation with a friend.
I want to get more exercise.
I want to understand more Japanese.
I want to bone up on my understanding of writing and editing (I am in the middle of both a book and an online course).

[And that's just keeping it small. Never mind about the millions dying because they can't get access to clean water—I'm not being trite here, this fact was in my prayer material this morning and I just felt an overwhelming frustration at how little difference I can actually make in this world.]

These are all fine desires, but keeping them in balance is challenging and sometimes I find myself dashing from one thing to another, not really completing anything. Or even wasting time on things that are definitely optional and not on my list above.

It's an ongoing battle, one, I suspect, that I'm not going to win in this world. I will never get enough books read, spend enough time with loved ones, or have enough rest. I will never learn Japanese well enough to be satisfied, or be as fit or as thin as I could be.

However, in the midst of what's becoming a long missionary career, I'm learning (ever so slowly) to be content with plodding. To deliberately take regular breaks—big and small. In my job, that especially has come to mean communication breaks. It means that I rarely look at email after dinner and weekends are also mostly email-free. I've tried to increase that pace, on occasion, and it usually ends badly.

So I'm torn. I plod, yet parts of me want to soar. Why all the dissatisfaction? Is it just personality defects? Or is this a deeper spiritual problem? Or is it just a fact of life, living in a broken world as a broken person?

I'm not sure. I actually suspect it's a combination of all of that. God made me with a wide range of interests and a lively mind, so I tend to jump from thing to thing (makes for challenging conversation, sometimes). God made me with a caring heart and a sensitive soul that tax my limits to help others. But like most people, he's also given me various responsibilities, and physical limitations (the need to take time to rest and recuperate, plus a few more individual limits). I should be longing for heaven: where none of that will limit me.

Trying to conclude this blog post has drawn me back to the book Awe by Paul Tripp again. It's hard to find something succinct to quote here, but I'll take this portion from a chapter that starts by quoting the whole of Isaiah 40 (which is also worth a slow-read, for perspective adjustment):

So pray right now that God would grace you with the desire and strength to get yourself up out of that dark basement and into the comforting and encouraging light of his existence and glory, and believe that you can fly. Not because you understand, are appreciated, or are in control, but because God controls all things, because he is glorious, and because by grace he is all that he is for you. (p144)

Looking like an idiot

I've been doing some heavy editing recently and my head is a bit heavy. I think writing a little today might be something of an antidote. Besides, I've got a good story to tell you...

I saw an article today called "Four rarely mentioned (but essential) missionary qualities". These were the qualities:

1. A sense of adventure
2. A sense of humour
3. A willingness to look like an idiot
4. A high tolerance for ambiguity

Generic photo, not from Japan...those number plates are wrong.

I'm not sure if I have all of these, but having stuck around for nearly 20 years, perhaps I do?

Let's see if I can dig out some examples, but I'm going to change the order:

A high tolerance for ambiguity
This is huge in Japan. Not just that we're in a culture where we don't understand many things, but the language and culture itself is full of ambiguity. In Japan people often learn by observation, rather than being explicitly told what to do. Living as a foreigner in this land that is multiplied many times. My observational skills are far better than they used to be, simply because that's often all I've got to make it through a situation. 

When we have visitors, they often ask many questions and we often don't have good-enough answers for them. We can't seek answers to all the questions that arise from what we don't know: we simply don't have the energy or time to do that. So instead we learn what we need to do our business and live our lives, and most of the rest has to just be left to one side.

Sense of adventure
I wouldn't characterise myself as someone particularly adventurous in the traditional sense of the work. I'm am not a big risk-taker. But from where you stand, what I do might look like an adventure, though it doesn't feel like it. However, I think probably our camping reveals our sense of adventure. Wading into the world of wrestling as we have is probably an adventure that many wouldn't care for. Travelling Tokyo trains can be an adventure...that's true!

A sense of humour
Missionary life (and life with teens) can get quite serious. But the willingness to laugh at oneself and at the odd things going on around you is pretty important. I guess one example of that is seeing interesting English or a funny meme or video. I do love to laugh and am happy to do so at myself. Most of the time I'm happy to tell the stories of when I've messed up, and have a laugh.

A willingness to look like an idiot
This is connected to the one above. I guess I often look like an idiot here, whether willingly, I'm not sure! It's common to not know what the protocol is for this or that. Or to get into trouble because you can't read something fast enough. 

This happened to me just last Friday. I drove with a friend to our "local" Costco, about an hour away. It's usually a stressful trip because it involves negotiating around a crowded shop with a large trolley, spending lots of money, and takes a good part of a day. But last Friday another layer of difficulty was added. In fact, it felt like I was in an international airport—there were so many things I needed to keep track of. 
A. My membership card: which was needed to get in, as well as to buy my groceries. 
B. My receipt for groceries: as they check this at the exit.
C. My receipt for the whole pizzas I bought at the restaurant: so I could collect them once they were made.
The above is usual, it was the fourth and fifth that threw me over the edge:
D. Car park ticket: the car park is usually free, but this time they had the gates activated and we had to take a ticket to get in. I presented it at the cashier when I bought my groceries where I got E.
E. Another car park ticket: I had no idea what this was for, but it seemed important and had an all-important stamp on it, so I put it in my purse.

After lugging the full over-sized trolley back to the van and loading everything into it, we joined the line to get out of the car park. There isn't usually a line, so it was strange and frustrating.

When we got to the boom gate there were three buttons on the machine, two yellow and one red. Plus two slots: one for the ticket, and one for money. We'd been waiting about ten minutes to get here and knew that the people behind us were also probably frustrated. So there was time pressure. 

I couldn't quickly read anything on the ticket machine. So I thrust one of the two car park tickets into the slot. It told me I owed them ¥1,000 (about AU$13.60). I wasn't about to pay that! I'd just spent hundreds of dollars buying groceries and the sign at the entry said that entitled me to three hours free parking . . . so I pushed another button and the ticket came out and I tried the other ticket. Then the display told me I owed them ¥6,000. I then pushed another button, in fact I probably pushed all of them one after the other, over and over . . . I can't remember now.

There was no obvious call button, and no staff member lurking nearby. The car behind me started to beep his horn, but didn't back up to let me unblock the single exit lane.

I am so glad my friend was there. Her presence helped calm me, but my cool was pretty much gone. Finally, two men approached our van, one on either side. They told us you had to put both tickets into the machine. Bingo: the boom gate rose and there was great relief all round. Belted into my car, I couldn't bow deeply in apology to those stuck behind us, but I wanted to.

I can't say that I was willing to look like an idiot. In fact I hate looking like one. But I find it easier to cope with that in Japan than in Australia. My white skin betrays me time and time again. But it does give me an excuse to mess up on occasion. I'm not sure the men who helped us would have been so patient with a woman who looked Japanese. 

Our foreignness got us off the hook, but in Australia it doesn't. Every time we go back we get odd looks at one time or another when we reveal our "foreignness" with a "stupid" question or lack of understanding of a situation. Our white skins don't save us there, nor do our Australian accents!

But back to those four characteristics. I don't know that I'd be known by any of them, except perhaps the humour. However, we have had to grow in each of the others. An ongoing sense of call, a strong desire to make an eternal difference, meaningful work we're gifted in doing, and a dogged stubborn streak has meant that we've stuck around.

Living with the tension of not understanding why

I finally got myself back to the gym this morning. Ever since my husband was in hospital in the latter half of November (followed by family holidays and school holidays), I haven't really caught up on work. And if I'm behind on work, I find it hard to justify the time it takes to go to the gym. Anyway, after five straight work-days at my desk (with just grocery shopping to interrupt my computer time), I'm feeling like I'm not paddling so desperately anymore. It's a nice feeling! 

The gym is a good place to think and process and I spent time thinking over the recent weeks and what I might write here this week.

So, after three weeks of very lazy holidays, our family got whiplash on the 6th when we went back to school and work. Work that I had put to one side over the break suddenly overwhelmed and I paddled with fervour. Those first ten days after getting back came with two big deadlines: 

1. The prayer booklet for Japan that I'm working with. From mid-November I was responsible for liaising with authors, acquiring content, and doing the initial edits. that was all due in my first week back.
2. Last Wednesday morning I taught about writing and social media at our mission's annual pre-home assignment workshop. It was a first for me to stand up in front of a mission workshop like this as "the expert" and it took both time to prepare for, and time to recover from!

In the latter part of last week it was a relief to have those two things over, and be able to concentrate on my more regular work (although #1 is by no means over, I've got more to do there, but I did [mostly] meet that particular deadline).

As I reflected on these weeks this morning, while working the machines, the undercurrent of grief that flows ever stronger, the older I get, worked its way closer to the surface. I've had to ignore it to meet my deadlines and get my work done, but on reflection, there's a lot of "brokenness" going on around me.

Australia's disasters
I think I may have offended some non-Australians recently when they've asked me about my country's state. As much as I love social media, it is capable of spreading misinformation and ugliness quickly. Most of the rest of the world has been under the impression that the majority of Australia is burning. Unfortunately, the fires are a more dramatic story than the devastating drought that my country's been labouring under for years now. And, yes, the fires are of enormous magnitude, but no, the majority of Australia is not on fire.

I hate the blame-casting. Of course, everyone who talks to us about it wants to know why the fires have been so bad this year (Australia has fires most summers). But so far as I can see there is no easy answer to this question. There are many factors that have tragically combined to produce this disaster. (Please note that I really don't want to have a discussion on this on social media and will delete comments on this post that are to that effect.)

Once again it hurts to be watching from a distance as our loved ones suffer. Though I am very thankful that none of my family or close friends have lost their houses or lives, my heart goes out to those who have. The air quality of our beautiful land has been difficult for many millions. And again, the suffering brought on by the drought is hard to comprehend, but our farmers, in particular, are doing it really tough.

Personal disasters
And then there's family and friends who are suffering just now, apart from the national disaster: watching a child die from cancer, trying to find a way through this year as a marriage dies, and dealing with the false accusations and old-boy-style of working in a new job. Just a few of the currents that are running under the surface of my life at present.

I'm trying to compartmentalise: seeking to enjoy the blessings God brings into my life (thanking him for clean air to breathe, for example) while at the same time holding the pain of my friends (which is also my own to a certain degree).

Yesterday I listened to an English sermon while I ate lunch and did other household tasks. It was specifically about what God thinks about the fires in Australia. It pointed us back to the fact that this world is broken and groaning and nothing is going to fix it before Jesus comes back. The preacher compelled us to be compassionate and do what we can for those who are hurting, but also to fix our eyes on Jesus. To put full trust in him alone, because no other can save us in the long run. 

We can put the fires out, but will still die of some other cause later. We can follow God's lead to a new job, and find that the rug has been pulled from underneath us before we even arrived. We can be as good as we possibly can, but still have the person we pledged to love forever turn their back on us. We can devote our lives to serving others, only to have cancer take our lives.

God's most extensive answer to someone who asked "Why?" that is recorded in the Bible is in Job. If you read through chapters 38 to 41, you quickly have your breath taken away. God didn't answer Job's question about why he suffered so greatly, but rather revealed to Job the vast chasm of difference between his knowledge and power and God's. Afterall what human can answer the question: "Do you send the lightning bolts on their way? Do they report to you, 'Here we are'?" (38:35 NIV).

And again in Isaiah 40 God speaks to his people, people who are in a world of pain: exiled, crushed, and without hope. He points to his great power and wisdom, "Who has measured the waters in the hollow of his hand, or with the breadth of his hand marked off the heavens? Who has held the dust of the earth in a basket, or weighed the mountains on the scales and the hills in a balance?" (v12 NIV).

So, I'm pointed back to God, who says:

"We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perpelxed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destoryed... 

So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal" (2 Cor. 4:8, 9, 18 NIV).

For me, now, today, that means continuing to trust God no matter what comes across my path. I don't understand and don't want, the pain, grief, or strife. But I won't turn my back on God, whose understanding far surpasses mine. For the time being, we all have to live with the tension of not-understanding: just like we do when we watch a movie that doesn't lay out all the pieces at the start.

What do you do and how does that contribute to reaching Japan?

These are essentially the questions that many supporters want to know the answer to. Even more, they want a person such as my self, who works in support ministry, to answer this question for them. For in roles like mine the line between what we do and reaching Japan for Christ is not a clear, easy-to-discern path.

What do I do?

I am an editor, writer, and manager. I actually juggle a number of roles. I'll quickly outline them before I explain how that fits with reaching Japan for Christ.

Managing editor of Japan Harvest: this is a magazine by and for missionaries in Japan. I am involved throughout the process of putting the magazine together: from planning themes, to acquiring articles, editing, and the design/proofreading stage. I also manage the team that works together to produce the magazine.

Social media/website content manager for OMF Japan: I do a number of things in social media for OMF, including coordinating it. That includes acquiring, creating, and editing of content for OMF's Facebook and Instagram pages. I also edit and upload articles written by missionaries to the OMF website. (See below for why we're doing this.) I'm also the one who answers those who click "Contact us" on OMF Japan's website.

Editor: I've been involved as an editor in various publishing projects. The latest one is a prayer booklet for Japan that has 29 contributing authors.

Investing in others: I also seek to encourage others in their writing. This has taken various forms over the years, but this year includes facilitating a writer's retreat and teaching on written communication and social media at an OMF workshop for missionaries. 

Encouraging and helping others: It's not an official role, but I love to encourage and help others whenever I can. So when I can fit it into everything else I do, I get together with others. This happens at sports meets, volunteering at school events, at prayer meetings, at annual women's retreats, hospitality and driving, etc.

How does all that I do contribute to reaching Japan for Christ?

On our last home assignment David and I spent a lot of time explaining we support missionaries and (I in particular) mobilise for mission. I'll break that down according to the roles that I outlined above.

Managing editor: Japan Harvest magazine goes out to over 1,000 missionaries. It contributes to reaching Japan for Christ because it encourages missionaries, it inspires missionaries, and it equips them. 

Japan has a poor retention rate for missionaries. At 19 years of service David and I are well over the average length of stay for a missionary here. For many reasons it is hard to stay here for a long time in mission work. This magazine goes to many missionaries who are alone in their ministry, facing discouragement because they're not seeing results, or needing inspiration. 

It gives a venue for missionaries to share what they are doing and therefore to inspire others to try different things. It provides a place for people to encourage others in their work or to challenge them to keep their eyes focused on Jesus as they labour in this hard place. Through what people write, we learn insights about culture, language, and ways of working, we're challenged to use different methods or technology, or discover more resources (like books and websites) on relevant topics to ministry in Japan. So it is contributing to our professional development also.

Social media: this is plain mobilisation. Mobilising people to be more involved in mission—whatever that looks like for them. We're using these free platforms (Facebook and Instagram, plus our website) to tell people about what OMF is doing in Japan, to show what it's like to live here and what missionaries are like. We're helping people to know how to pray for this land and challenging them to consider serving here or to encourage others to come and serve here or to reach out to Japanese people where they are. Stories are powerful vehicles for our message and it is my joy to be able to get the stories of missionaries out to an audience of thousands! To places that it would be difficult, expensive, or even impossible to get a speaker to. (Can you tell I'm passionate about this?)

Editing: again mobilisation. Providing people with tools to help them pray or to help them help others to pray for this needy nation. By applying a high level of quality to OMF's publications and social media I am also raising the authenticity of OMF. Because we're producing good quality material, others see OMF as a mission worthy of their trust, interest, and involvement.

Investing in others: almost a decade ago God placed on my heart a desire to help missionaries get their stories out to more people. To help them help others see how God uses ordinary people to do his extraordinary work. I see that being played out across almost all of what I do now: editing people's work, helping people with their writing, and using people's stories in our social media. All of these are helping us in Japan tell others about what God is doing in Japan. I trust that God takes all of these things and uses them in ways I couldn't imagine to raise up prayer and workers for his work. Which in turn reaches Japan for Christ, but not in an easy-to-see way that evangelism and church planting does.

Encouraging and helping others: if my small contribution to someone else (be it a word of encouragement, hospitality, or some other way that I've helped them) means that they are encouraged to continue to serve, then I am contributing to reaching Japan for Christ. A number of missionaries I know are involved in church planting and evangelism and are gifted in these areas. Who knows, but perhaps a word or deed that I've done has made a small contribution to them being able to continue to work in Japan reaching Japanese people for Christ. A contribution that I would not have been able to make if I were based in Australia!

This is a bit of a rough piece of passionate writing. Do you hear my heart? I am not on the so-called "front line". I am not a soldier who is in combat. My gifting is not in evangelism or church planting. But I am passionate about supporting those who are. 

Just take a moment to think about what if everyone who was serving in Japan with OMF was a church planter or evangelist, what would that look like? Here are some ideas:

This is one of my colleagues who is also in support ministry. She processes
applicants to serve with OMF Japan as well as works in member care.
One of her previous ministries was running OMF's language school.

• We'd have lots of church plants, but the workers would be frustrated because they couldn't devote all their time to the work. They would also be spending time educating their kids, plus hours working on filling out forms for the government related to their visas, taxes, insurance, banking, rental properties etc.
• We'd have almost no prayer material, because no one would have any time to produce it, therefore we'd have almost no one praying for the work here.
• People would stagnate in their work because there would be no training, no one would have time to think about upgrading their skills, or learning new ways of working. They would be discouraged.
• There would be no one to process new applicants who wanted to come to Japan to work.
• We would have no website telling people about what we're doing in Japan.
• We wouldn't have a short-term program, or if we did it would be much smaller, and potentially cause a lot of frustration to missionaries as they took a lot of time out of their work to do the administration work necessary to get a short term worker to Japan.
• We'd have no direction or goals as a mission because we would have no leaders. Or if we did have leaders, their attention would be very divided because they would be spending most of their time leading church plants. So our work would be very ad-hoc and lacking cohesion.
• We wouldn't have a language program, people would be responsible for finding their own language teachers and program. Again, it would be ad-hoc and potentially ineffective.

Well, it's getting a bit negative. But you can see what happens when support ministries are taken away. There is a lot that needs to be done in order run a local church. The same (or more) in a mission. Of course many people come as independent missionaries or as tent makers, and people make good cases for this way of working. I'm not here to pit independent mission work vs being in a mission, except to say that I appreciate the support that OMF gives and I doubt that we would still be in Japan except for that.

Well, it's time to sign off. I hope that this is a helpful insight into my role and possibly a challenge to think more deeply about the sorts of roles missionaries can legitimately do as part of the greater missionary effort.

Why are these stereotypes of missionaries so hard to change?

In that nebulous time between Christmas and New Year we took the train into town to meet a couple of tourists. 

Special tourists. They were a couple from one of our supporting churches in Perth and happened to be taking a family holiday in Japan. They messaged us several days earlier asking to meet up somewhere between their hotel near Tokyo's waterfront and our place. 

There's an awful lot of humanity in that space and it's possibly not surprising that it's challenging to find a good place to meet and talk on a busy holiday-Saturday. Tokyo was partying and shopping and so we stood around at the "designated" coffee shop (that has over 120 seats) for more than 20 minutes to get four seats together!

David using boxes to illustrate how many 

extra tasks a missionary has to manage, 

tasks that take time that an evangelist or 

church planter could otherwise be 

using in people-ministry.

These tasks can be taken on by 

missionaries who specialise in these 

tasks, freeing others up to do their work.

It turned out to be more than just a casual catch-up. This man is a key player who has been pushing for several years for our small, relatively young denomination to have a group overseeing mission work. We talked for over an hour and a half. Conversation roamed around ministry in Japan, why the work is so slow here, missions networks in Australia and the tendrils that extend to Japan and extend out to the US also. 

But the biggest thing I took away from the conversation was how challenging it is to communicate that missionaries do more than just church planting or evangelism. We've been talking for over a decade on the importance of support ministry, but it seems that it's an even harder sell than we imagined. It also seems as though the education of missionary kids is okay, but what I do is mysterious to the point of being suspect of whether it is worthy to be called mission work at all.

I have to say that is discouraging. 

I can come up with dozens of metaphors that show how important the "behind the scenes" work and workers are: the support staff for Australia's cricket team, the ticket ushers, physios, administrators, and coaches at the Australian open, the canteen staff for the athletes at the upcoming Olympics. 

Or non-sport examples: the receptionist for your local dentist, the tech staff in a big business, and the logistics staff for an army. What about the childcare workers who enable both marriage partners to work or the garbage collectors who keep our garbage from stinking out our houses? Or the accountant who helps you keep your finances in order.

Or think about a hospital: cleaners, medical records, receptionists, electricians, plumbers, maintenance workers, and groundskeepers. 

All these people have the less visible and less glamorous jobs. But they are all important jobs.

I'm left wondering why missionaries are all expected to have the visible and "glamorous" jobs. Why are the stereotypes so fixed? Here's a great article pondering the same topic: In Defense of Second-class Missionaries

This blog post has been written this week during little bits of time between the end of my working day and the start of my evening family responsibilities. I hope it makes sense to you. I could write in defense of my own job, explaining in more detail about what I do and how that helps the message of Christ reach Japan, but not this time. This time I just want us to ponder why it is so hard to imagine that not all missionaries are evangelists and church planters. And what we can do about that. I feel like we're trying the best we can to communicate why support ministry is important, I wonder what else we could be doing?